


Beautiful Things

by peterwithextrapickles



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Swearing, gender neutral reader, give peter a hug 2k19, i'd rather die than unironically use Y/N, yeah infinity war never happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 04:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19456381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterwithextrapickles/pseuds/peterwithextrapickles
Summary: You're in in Peter’s photography class and very bitter about your less than optimal grade, especially compared to “Perfect Parker.” One night he hand delivers you the perfect way to an ‘A’.





	Beautiful Things

You wandered around Queens, hoping for anything to get you a passing grade in photography. Maybe your teacher, Mr. Nichols, would be a more lenient if “Perfect Peter Parker” turned in one bad photo. No, every single one of his pictures was an awesome shot from an interesting angle. Most were from impossible heights. How could you compete? But, of course Peter set the standard.

It was past midnight, and you were hoping for some human interest. Unfortunately, most “human interest” out at this hour was a bit… sketchy. So far more than six people had asked you for money, and you’d quickly jogged past too many dark alleys with ominous sounds of drug deals and drunk men at the end.

You heard sirens in the distance that you chose to ignore. To your right you found a truly rare sight indeed: a dark alley with nothing evidently ominous down it. Maybe there’d be a cat asleep swathed in orange street lights you could photograph. Curiously (yet cautiously), you silently stepped down it.

“Fuck,” a distinctly familiar voice mumbled angrily. _Peter Parker_. What was he doing here? You ducked behind a dumpster to watch, and remained silent. You snapped a picture, hoping the click wasn’t too loud. There was certainly something interesting about to go down, and Parker’s surprising abs as he slid off his shirt certainly looked human. You took another picture. Just in case.

Peter quickly hopped out of his jeans. He was wearing Spiderman boxers. You started planning your escape route in case Parker had some weird alley hobbies, but luckily he picked up a heap of lycra. He stepped into it, and it fit him like a potato sack. You took a few pictures. He looked dorky enough that this could potentially be used to embarrass him. He pressed his hand to his chest, and suddenly the sack became a very attractive form-fitting Spider-Man suit. You took more pictures, and including ones showing him putting the trademarked mask on. This was far better than human interest, this was _super_ -human interest.

“Parker!”

“Uhhhhhh…. Who’s Parker?” Peter tried his best, but he was an awful liar.

“How the fuck have you kept this a secret for so long?” You laughed, and Spidey’s eyes narrowed. You swore you could vaguely make out him pouting through the mask. “Wait! This is how you get all those cool pictures! You fucking cheater!”

“What, what pictures? I have no clue what you’re talking about, ma’am. Have a good evening, I’m off to fight crime now!” Before you could get another word in, he shot off into the night, probably towards the sirens.

* * *

The next day at school, you slipped a stack of photographs printed out to Peter. “If you wanted pictures of me shirtless, you could’ve asked. I probably would’ve said no, but it’d be less creepy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, Parker. I wouldn’t want to look at your chest if God themself had sculpted it. Stop deflecting. We both know what these pictures prove. I still have all the originals. Start talking, Parker.”

“Talk about what? Photography? Your angles could really use some work,” Peter chided. You glowered in response.

“Fine. I suppose the New York Times won’t have much of a problem with my angles when I send them these pictures identifying Spider-man.” He stayed composed, but his fidgeting gave him away.

“You can’t!”

“Why not? I don’t see why you would care. I mean since that’s not you. You shouldn’t care who has these pictures. Right?”

“I don’t,” he started defensively, “but I also don’t want to get harassed by people like you who think it’s me.” You scoffed. He could pretend all he liked, you knew what you saw.

“Fine then Peter, say you aren’t Spiderman. You still don’t want these pictures to get out, right?”

“Yeah,” he conceded. “Look, my aunt and I don’t have a lot of money, if that’s what you’re after, and Tony Stark doesn’t really take my calls.”

“I don’t care about Stark. Or money. I care about the fact that somehow this is the only class I’m getting below an A in, and it’s _your_ fault.” Your voice got a bit louder in anger, and Peter glared at you.

“My fault? How is that my fault?!”

“Mr. Nichols is practically in love with you! Every picture you turn in might as well be covered in gold for how much he worships you. Next to your pedestal, everything else might as well be garbage.” Peter actually looked surprised. He’d genuinely never noticed the kind of favoritism he got. Somehow, Peter never seemed to notice how easily the world loved him.

“So, if I take pictures for you for the rest of the school year, you promise you’ll destroy these pictures?” He held up the stack you dumped in front of him.

“Of course not! I want your help. I’m not taking credit for anyone else’s work, but maybe you’re right. Maybe my angles, my composition, my lighting, and everything else needs work. Will you help? We can do it during lunch so you still have plenty of time after school to not be Spider-Man.” Despite the huge upper hand you clearly had, you were nervous. He probably hated you right now. Why should he agree? He could always deny the pictures, say they were photoshopped.

“Fine. Every lunch I’ll help you. I’ll make sure your grade in this class goes up. Then at the end of the year I watch you delete those pictures. Deal?”

“I’ll do you one better, Parker. The second my grade reaches a 90 or better, I’ll delete them. After which you can decide to keep helping me or not.”

“I guess we’ve reached an agreement then. See you at lunch?”

“Guess so. By the robotics lab?”

“By the robotics lab,” Peter affirmed.

The rest of your morning classes passed in a blur, and by lunch time your stomach had twisted in more knots than a thousand headphones. You stood by the lab, camera in hand, waiting for Peter Parker. After an eternity compressed into five minutes, he finally arrived. “Sorry, you haven’t been waiting for me long, have you?” He actually sounded sorry, and any resentment slipped away. You could sort of see it. Why everyone who met him was so protective of him. You just couldn’t stay mad at him; it was like kicking a puppy.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, Spidey.” You playfully punched him on the arm, but you regretted it the second you did it.

“What was that?”

“I’m not sure, I think MJ’s rubbing off on me.” Peter let out a giggle, and you knew then you would never turn him in. The pictures were as good as deleted. “So, you wanna to start?”

“Sure! We should probably go outside though, the lighting in this school sucks.” You walked next to him towards the football field in less-than-comfortable silence. The second you stepped outside, away from the constant chatter and buzz of the lights, he lightened. You took a few candids of him, each more startled than the last.

“What, what are you doing?” He didn’t sound defensive, more bemused.

You laughed in response, prompting a smile. “I like to take pictures of beautiful things,” you responded, if only to make him blush. He did indeed, each cheek as pink as the cherry blossom petals littering the path out of the school.

“Oh, um, thank you? I mean, only May calls me ‘beautiful’, and why are you being so nice to me-” His rambling stopped when he saw the playful smile on your lips.

“It’s nice to see you’re not always so cocky. I’d much rather see you blush than without a shirt.”

“Well, you didn’t seem to mind me without a shirt. You even took pictures.” His words certainly carried an air of confidence, but he stared at the ground, and his cheeks grew redder with every word.

You scoffed. “When you say it like that it sounds kind of stalkerish. You were the one getting undressed in a random alley! Taking pictures of strange occurrences has become something of a second nature.”

“And me in sunlight just now is a ‘strange occurrence?’”

“No, seeing you relaxed. Indoors, especially around loud technology, you look perpetually stressed. Maybe that’s why you’re such a dick sometimes.” Your casual tone left him awkwardly laughing so hard he couldn’t quite breathe properly.

His laugh gave way to speech. “I’m, I’m a what?”

“Your casual comments about my angles? That cocky little smile? Sometimes, you’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met. Then you can’t even be bothered to properly be a bad person! You’re actually kind of nice. Especially considering the situation.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize-”

 _You never do,_ you thought, but all you said was, “Don’t worry about it, Parker. C’mon, the football field has some interesting if not tacky leading lines.” You took his calloused hand and led him astray.

* * *

You slid a singular piece of paper over to Peter Parker. He curiously glanced at it, not a single trace of worry. You’d grown to trust each other, and somewhat comfortable. After the thousandth slip-up, he’d finally confessed to being Spider-Man. Plus, your best grade was in anatomy, and you were first-aid certified. It helped after a particularly bad fight to go by your place, and have you stitch him.

Peter held up the paper. “Your grades? Why would you give me this? I already know your GPA is insane.”

“And yours is only struggling because of your extracurricular. Look at Photography.”

Peter’s eyes bulged. “A ninety-six? That’s amazing!”

You poked his cheek teasingly. “All thanks to you, Parker.” There was no question of the pictures. He didn’t care if you still had them or not. He trusted you with them.

“Hey, um, would you want to still hang out around lunch?”

“‘Course, Bug-Boy. Being around you gives me another beautiful thing to take pictures of. Us.”


End file.
